Holding His Heart
by MrsJSkinner
Summary: She had been his wife, his whole world, the only woman he ever loved. Then she betrayed him, earning only his hatred and disgust. After years spent apart and the world has gone to hell, they cross paths. The tender young bride of his past is no more. In her place is a stranger. A ruthless cold woman he neither recognizes or trusts.* I own no part of the Walking Dead.*


*Note: I know Daryl has an extremely country accent but I failed miserably trying to write that way. Every time I proofread my story the misspelled words in his dialogue drove me crazy! Hopefully it doesn't take away from the story! I've made a few changes to the characters. Merle isn't as big an asshole and Daryl is a little more suave.

Lacey was exhausted. Seven months pregnant and working sixty hours a week were taking its toll. It was barely noon and all she wanted to do was go home and sleep. Starring into the mirror she felt as if she were seeing a stranger. Her light brown hair was limp and had lost its luster months ago. Her skin seemed almost translucent and was pulled tightly against her sunken cheeks. The dark purple circles under her eyes attested to the fact she hadn't had a full night's sleep in weeks. She looked ancient, nothing like her actual nineteen years. Touching her cheeks she turned from the mirror in disgust. She hated being weak. She hated the tremble in her hands. Hated that she wasn't strong enough to provide for her unborn child and take care of herself too.

The baby inside her rolled as if offering her support. Rubbing her belly she leaned her head into the mirror. "It's alright little guy. It'll be alright," she whispered as a solitary tear rolled down her face. "Mamma is here. Everything will be alright."

Her reverie was broken by a loud voice outside of the bathroom and the accompanying fist banging on the door. "Breaks up Lacey. Get your ass out here. "

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath.

Wiping her face she straightened her shoulders willing strength back into her body. Opening the door she stared into her boss's greasy face shuddering slightly when he ran his tongue across his mossy teeth.

"Table six just filled up and they've been waiting. Get your skinny ass over there and do your damn job."

"Right away Tom sir," she retorted with a sickly sweet smile and salute.

"Watch that attitude little girl," he growled grabbing her arm roughly his foul breath puffing into her face. "You need this job more then it needs you." Releasing her arm with a jerk he stalked off.

"Bastard," she muttered rubbing her arm where he had gripped her. God did she hate this place. It was sucking the life from her. As much as she needed the money there were days where she prayed it would burn to the ground right along with its owner. Tom Greenfield had owned this place as long as she could remember and he'd always been a cruel tight fisted bastard, but lately he'd been worse. As her pregnancy advanced she had become a pretty crappy waitress. It was hard to keep a breakneck pace while she was so heavily pregnant. She knew it wasn't going to be long before he fired her if she didn't make a bigger effort to keep her mouth closed. Being exhausted, scared, and hormonal wasn't doing her any favors.

"Table six," Tom barked from the kitchen, "Now!"

Jerking she hopped to, pulling her pad from her apron and sliding a pen from behind her ear. She approached table six taking a quick look at the occupants before she looked away. Two sweaty and grime covered construction workers were smoking and tapping their fingers impatiently against the table. Rough neck customers always made her feel uncomfortable and eye contact only seemed to encourage their flirtations.

"Hello, I'm Lacey. I'm sorry if you had to wait long. Has anyone gotten your drink order yet," she asked, pen poised over paper, never taking her eyes off her pad.

"It's alright," a voice growled. "Aint like we only got an hour to eat or nothin."

Lacey's entire body jerked then froze. She knew that voice. She heard it every night when the darkness became too quiet. Please don't let it be him! Please don't let it be him. Please let it be anybody but him!

Swallowing, she slowly raised her eyes until she was staring into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. Beautiful eyes filled with a burning anger that never failed to make her feel like the lowest piece of filth on God's earth.

"Daryl," she whispered. She could hear the longing in her own voice and hated it. She couldn't stand the way he was looking at her. She had to get out of here. Mumbling apologies she backed up blindly tears swimming in her eyes and made a quick exit.

Daryl Dixon had avoided the diner for months not wanting to see her. Merle had tried to talk to him about her a few times but had stopped after it ended in blood. Daryl did not want to know where she was, what she was doing, or who she was doing it with. They were over and she was no concern of his anymore.

In their small hick town there were only four places to eat out and after eating fried chicken and BBQ for months he had decided enough was enough. He wasn't anyone's bitch and he was tired of letting some little girl interfere with his life. When his crew broke for lunch he had suggested to Merle that they go to Harleys Diner for lunch. Merle had almost swallowed his chew in his hurry to agree.

He had thought he could handle seeing her but he had been wrong. He had watched her slowly approach his table, her large belly leading the way and he had been consumed with rage. It took every ounce of his control not to snap and he had settled on his eyes doing the talking for him. Judging by her hasty retreat she had gotten the message.

"Dammit Darlina," Merle cussed. "I'm hungry. What did ya go and do that for. Ya scared her off!"

"Hey Tom," Daryl called out laughing darkly. "Send the waitress back. She ran off like a scared doe."

"Goddammit girl," Tow swore from the kitchen. Stalking to the bathroom he slammed his fist into the door. "Open the damn door!"

Desperately trying to pull herself together she opened the door. Looking into Tom's enraged face she cringed. She wasn't afraid he would really hurt her but it wasn't pleasant having him yell directly into her face either.

Grabbing her around the waist he hauled her into the seating area. Her eyes immediately sought out Daryl. He was watching the scene unfold with a slight sneer on his lips. "This is the last warning. One more fuck up and you're gone," Tom hissed in her ear. Releasing her he flung her towards Daryl's table. Stumbling forward she grabbed onto the arm of the guy sitting across from Daryl barely able to regain her balance. The arm came up to wrap around her bottom giving it a gentle pat and squeeze.

"You alright darlin," the owner of the arm asked. Nodding Lacey looked at her rescuer. It was none other than Merle, Daryl's bother.

Gasping she pushed the arm away and took a step back. "Yes thank you Merle," she whispered in a shaky voice offering him a weak smile. "I'm not as light on my feet as I used to be," she added with a chuckle.

"Now that's the damn truth," he laughed. "Heard ya was havin a boy."

Her face lit up as she nodded keeping all of her attention focused on Merle. Her baby was the only thing that could bring a genuine smile to her face anymore. "Yes I am. I'm naming him Jamie after my grandfather. How have you been? Ain't seen you around lately."

Merle opened his mouth to speak when Daryl's voice cut it. "Quit jawin and take our damn order so we can fuckin eat already. You're as bad a waitress as you were a wife!"

The smiled died on her face and Merle watched as the light went out in her eyes. Sighing she turned to Daryl, focusing her attention on his mouth, knowing if she looked into his eyes again, saw them brimming with hate, she would crack in two. "What would you like," she asked quietly.

"Coffee. Burger and fries," he sneered crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back into the seat.

"Cream and sugar?"

"No," he spit out between clenched teeth. She knew damn well how he took his coffee.

"Merle? Same for you," she asked flashing him a tired smile.

"No coffee. Take a coke instead," he answered quietly handing her their menus. At that moment he wanted nothing better than to slam his fist into his brother's face.

"Be back in a sec with your drinks." She walked off, her heart heavier and her eyes burning with tears. God she missed him. Daryl had been her rock for so long. Her best friend. And now he could barely stand to look at her. It wasn't fair! She hadn't done anything wrong. If he would just listen…

"What the fuck is wrong with you," Merle hissed across the table to his brother.

Daryl starred back in disbelief.

"Have you taken a good look at her? She looks like she's going to collapse any second now and your taking cheap shots at her! Keep your fucking mouth closed or I swear to God I'm gonna lay you out," he growled leaning into Daryl's face.

"Fuck you Merle. I'll say whatever the hell I want. She's my fucking whore wife! Not yours." Daryl was almost spitting the words into his brother's face as Lacey came within earshot of the table.

"Huh," she huffed with a shake of her head. She didn't have to look at either one of them to know what their facial expressions would be. Merles would be full of pity. Daryl's with contempt and rage. "So it's whore wife now. Guess that's better than "cunt". Shrugging she placed their drinks on the table. Her hands were shaking so bad she lost her grip on Daryl's mug and hot coffee poured all over his lap.

"Son of a bitch," he yelled leaping from his seat and swiping the hot liquid from his crotch. A hysterical giggle escaped her lips as she watched him. He looked ridiculous. Her big scary "husband" was dancing around like he had ants in his pants.

Daryl froze at the sound. Narrowing his eyes he grabbed her upper arm in a tight grip and pulled her close to him. A gasp escaped her as his hand tightened painfully around her arm and drew her close to his body. His belt buckle was pressing into her belly as he leaned in closely.

"Daryl- I didn't-," she stammered staring into his face only inches from her own.

"You did that on purpose," he accused. His voice was low and soft. He was in a full rage.

"Daryl! It was an accident I swear! My hands were shaking and I just-"

"Shut up," he barked giving her a little shake. Lacey shut up. She honestly didn't know if Daryl would hurt her. Her Daryl, the one who had held her all night when her grandma died, that Daryl would never have raised a hand against her, but this Daryl was a stranger.

"You did that on purpose," he accused again digging his fingers in painfully. Lacey cringed, searching his eyes trying to find even the smallest glimmer of love and finding none.

"Please," she implored jerking her arm to escape his grip. "It was an accident I swear! Don't hurt me." The last part was a weak plea and sounded pathetic and weak even to her own ears. When had she become this person? A person with no fight?

"That's it!" Suddenly Merle was beside her. "Let her go Daryl!"

"This is between me and my whoring cunt wife!"

"For Gods sake Daryl," Merle yelled. "Are you really going to lay hands on a nineteen year old pregnant kid? You're three times her size and outweigh her by a hundred pounds."

Daryl turned his head to look at his brother. "And what if I am?"

Shaking his head sadly Merle quietly answered. "Then you'll be no better then that bastard who raised us."

"Fuck you," he yelled shoving her into Merles chest and storming out of the diner.

"Holy crap," she breathed out tilting her head up to look at Merle.

"Yeah," was all he said putting her away from him. "Ya alright?"

"He scared the crap out of me and my arm is sore but I'm not hurt."

Merle pulled his wallet out and laid a twenty on the table. "Just stay away from him for a while. Let him cool off."

Lacey let out a humorless chuckle. "Stay away from him? That's all I've been doing. And I can't tell that it helped any."

"I know," he sighed. "Look, I gotta get back to work. Call me if you need anything baby girl." He gave her a tight hug and left.

The rest of her shift was uneventful but seemed to drag by. Her thoughts were consumed by Daryl. She had really deluded herself into thinking that the next time she saw him he would at least have calmed down enough to be civil. But no. He hated her as much now as he had six months ago. She had to face facts. He was never going to love her again. They were never going to be that happy couple. She had lost her love and her best friend and there was no going back.

Sighing she hung up her apron and clocked out. It was eleven o'clock and she was exhausted. Her feet and back were killing her. All she wanted to do was sink neck deep in a hot bath and go to sleep. She had to be back at work by six am. Tom, very displeased with today's disruptions, had made her switch her lunch/dinner shift with another waitress. One he happened to be screwing. Lacey hadn't argued. She was lucky she still had a job after that stunt Daryl had pulled.

Getting into her car she reached for her hidden pack of cigarettes, remembering as her hand touched the empty cup holder that she had quit. She almost started sobbing. For years cigarettes had been her crutch. If things were going shitty all she ever needed was a cup of coffee and a smoke and all her cares would melt away. She seemed to have replaced those two vices with crying. Clearing her throat and giving herself a little shake, she reminded herself that quitting was best for the baby and that she was happy to do it. Cranking the car she waited to be assaulted by Korn, but nothing happened. Turning the key she tried again. Nothing.

That was the last straw. "Fuck," she shrieked slamming her hand into the steering wheel over and over as tears poured down her face. "Fuck this piece of shit car! Fuck this fucking job! Fuck Daryl! Fuck that fucking motherfucker that did this to me! Fuuuuucccck!"

When she had worn herself out she leaned her head against the steering wheel, cradling her aching hands in her lap as she weighed her options. She could go back into the diner and see if Tom would give her a ride. She discarded the idea immediately. The less time spent with that sleazy perv the better. She could have used the diner phone to call Merle but she had never bothered to memorize his number and Daryl had canceled her cell almost immediately after their split and she had tossed it in the trash without ever having retrieved the numbers. Her mother was probably so drunk it would be murder to even suggest she drive a car. That left walking. Sighing she opened the car door and began the long trek. She lived in a less than desirable part of town about twenty blocks away. It was a good ways off but in her condition it might as well have been fifty miles. The ache in her feet grew worse with each step she took. Tears full of self-pity burned her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She had been born trailer trash, raised trailer trash, but she refused to act like it. Crying was going to get her nothing but an aching head.

Less than a year ago she had been happily married to the man of her dreams. They had lived in a nice apartment with nice things. Nothing to grand but comfortable and homey. She'd worked a normal forty hour week and never had to worry about bills and money for food and clothes. All because of Daryl. He had been her knight in shining armor. He had rescued her from the trailer park and together they had built a castle. Lost in her thoughts she didn't notice a man approaching her until she nearly bumped into him. Letting out a shriek she jumped back turning to flee.

"Goddammit woman!" The roar came from behind her scaring her even more. Panicking she turned to look over her shoulder just as she was wrenched around. Beating against the man's chest she screamed.

"Lacey! It's me! Daryl. Stop fighting me." The words slowly penetrated her mind.

"Daryl," she asked, going limp with relief. "You scared me to death!"

Slowly setting her away from he nodded and continued to stare at her.

"What do you want," she asked warily backing away remembering their encounter earlier. He still looked angry. Was he finally going to get the revenge he thought was due to him?

He shrugged looking at the ground. "Saw you walking."

She just continued to look up at him, waiting.

Making a sound of disgust he ran his hands through his shaggy hair. "Look. Do you need a ride?"

Lacey could tell that he really didn't want her to say yes. A burning anger filled her chest. He was supposed to have been the one person in the world she could trust. He had taken vows to love her above everything else. He had broken those vows before their first anniversary.

"Go away Daryl. I don't need or want your help. I'm not your problem anymore." She was so tired. Tired of fighting with him. Tired of loving him.

"Fine," he spat out. "Better be careful. Wouldn't wanna welp your bastard out here on the street."

Lacey saw red. Swinging with every ounce of her weight she slammed her fist into his jaw. "Do not ever call my son that again or I swear to God I will blind you!" The last bit was hissed out between her tightly clenched teeth.

Daryl hadn't even seen the fist coming. She'd hit him square in the jaw knocking him back a few feet. Rubbing his face he looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in a long time. Merle was right. She didn't look very good. She had always been small, almost dainty, but now she looked sickly. Her lithe runner's body looked weak and frail. Her whole body had a slight tremble and the spark that had drawn him to her was gone. The young woman who had shrieked with laughter and taken the keys to his Harley just to make him chase her around the apartment was gone. This women he didn't know. This woman looked like she never laughed.

Sighing he rubbed his hand over his face. "Let me give ya a ride Lacey. Ya look like shit."

Lacey glanced over at him. The anger was gone from his face replaced by a bone tired wariness she could relate to. Nodding she walked beside him. Their hands brushed and they jerked apart looking up to stare at each other. A year ago they would have been walking hand in hand, anticipating getting each other home.

"Trucks that way," he blurted pointing across the street. "Where," she asked looking for his old Chevy.

"There." He raised his hand pointing to a big beautiful blue truck she didn't recognize.

"Wow," she said walking towards it. "It's huge!"

Daryl turned a little red. He knew it was way over the top. He had gotten it a few weeks after their marriage fell apart. He had needed something good on his life.

Standing on her tiptoes she tried peeking in the window but wasn't quite tall enough. "It's really nice Daryl. I'm happy for you," she said turning around to face him.

He just nodded reaching past her to unlock the door and walking around to the driver's side.

Opening the door she looked across at the seat and back down to her belly. The seat was at eye chest level and she wasn't tall enough to reach the handle at the top of the door frame. "Um, Daryl," she called warily, "Unless you have a step stool I'm not going to be able to get in."

Closing his eyes he mentally slapped himself. She was barely over five feet tall. Over encumbered by her belly of course she wasn't going to be able to climb into the seat by herself. "I'm comin," he called walking back to her. He really did not want to touch her again.

Wringing her hands nervously she watched Daryl stroll to her. He was a large man, well-built and tall, easily dwarfing her smaller frame. She had loved the way Daryl made her feel when he held her close. Small, delicate, feminine, cherished and protected. Now he was going to touch her again for the first time in a long time….and it wouldn't be in anger.

He grabbed her around the waist, or what was left of it, like he had done a thousand times before and lifted her into the seat. It was over so fast she felt disappointed. She missed his hands on her. Missed feeling his body heat burning into hers.

"It's a very nice truck Daryl," she said quietly when he climbed in and shut the door. "What happened to the Chevy?"

"Still got it," he answered cranking the truck up. "Didn't want to sell her."

Lacey nodded, just enjoying the deep timbre of his voice. Sighing she leaned her head back against the head rest and closed her eyes.

"Where am I taking you," he asked looking over at her as she sat up and blinked slowly like an owl. She was the hardest sleeper he had ever met. She had once slept through the cops breaking down the door to arrest Merle back during his drug days.

"Oh. Um.. Sandstone Apatments. Building C," she answered.

Daryl jerked so hard the truck pulled to the right.

"The fuck," he snarled turning his head to look at her. "Nothing but crack heads, drunks, and whores there. That ain't no place for you to live!"

Lacey smiled darkly turning to look at Daryl in the glow from the street light. "If the shoes fits…. Isn't that right Daryl?"

He turned toward her ready to unleash. She was sorry for baiting him almost the moment it was out of her mouth. Holding her hand up she stopped him. "Just don't ok? Just take me home please."

"Fine," he growled. They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

Pulling up at the apartment building he stopped the truck and took a careful look around. The usual drunks and druggies loitered around outside the building. Reaching under his seat he grabbed his pistol and hopped to the ground. Raising his shirt he tucked it into the waistband of his jeans before closing the door and making his way to her side. He opened the door and reached up to grab her. A small dainty snore escaped her open mouth making Daryl smirk. She never believed him when he told her she snored like a drunken sailor.

Shaking her shoulder roughly he tried to wake her. "Lacey. Lacey, ya gotta wake up. We're here."

"Mmmmh." She blinked slowly looking up at him with a dreamy smile on her face. "Daryl? We're home already?"

Daryl felt as if he had been gutted the pain was so intense. They would frequently go on weekend trips to his hunting cabin when they had dated and a few times after they had married. She would always fall asleep on the way home, lulled to sleep by the rocking truck and the soft sound of the Eagles. She was so hard to wake Daryl would usually end up carrying her into their apartment and putting her to bed.

He stopped his thoughts from going any farther. It was over. They were over. She had betrayed him and he would never forgive her. Things would never go back to the way they were.

Grabbing both her shoulders he sat her up. "Lacey," he barked, his voice filled with frustration and anger. "Wake the hell up."

Groaning she opened her eyes. "Daryl? What- where," she stuttered. Half asleep she looked around trying to figure out where she was and why she was with Daryl. For half a second she allowed herself to believe they were home, their home, and the last couple of months had just been a terrible dream.

"Come on," he said gruffly. "Ya feel asleep. Your home."

"Mmmmhhh,"she responded struggling to control her tears. That's right, he had given her a ride to her apartment.

Reaching up Daryl lifted her from the truck and sat her on her feet. Hissing she grabbed the door handle bending slightly forward trying to relieve the pressure on her lower back.

"Ya alright," he asked, pointedly not looking at her as he locked the truck, hating that he cared. Caring meant she still had control over him.

Nodding she let her hair fall forward to cover her face. "My back just hurts. Stood to long today is all. Give me a second and it'll be fine."

Nodding he leaned against the side of the truck scanning their surroundings. They had drawn a bit of attention. Or more likely his truck had drawn a bit of attention. No one made a move towards them but he kept a watchful eye just in case. Lacey was lightly rubbing her back, forcing herself to stand straighter and straighter ignoring her protesting muscles. She refused to walk away hunched over and hobbling like an old lady while Daryl watched.

"Ever the hunter still," she chuckled noticing Daryl take in everything around them. "Thanks for the ride. Good night Daryl." Turning she walked away digging into her pocket for her keys.

Daryl watched her slow progression noticing the way she kept her hand on the wall for support. She looked like a drunk. "Fuck," he said under breath striding toward her.

"Give me your keys," he demanded stopping in front of her with his hand out.

"It's fine Daryl. I got it."

"Give me the goddamned keys Lacey," he demanded again. "I'm not going to leave until your inside. I don't need you passing out or getting mugged. Don't need that shit on my conscience."

Shifting her feet she looked over his shoulder. She knew that tone and that look on his face. He was going to get his way come hell or high water. Sighing she handed them over.

"What apartment are you?"

"Thirty two."

He snorted shaking his head. Third floor. Of course. Damn fool woman. Who rents a third floor apartment knowing they're expecting a baby?

They made slow progress up the first flight of stairs. Reaching the landing she let out an exhausted breath and leaned into the wall. "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "I've got to stop for a minute. Feel kinda dizzy."

Daryl nodded wishing he had just called Merle to come give her a ride. He had taken care of her for so long…. It was a tough habit to break. He wanted her inside the apartment as soon as possible so he could get the hell away from her. He had seriously miscalculated when he had assumed he could see her without feeling anything. Sighing resignedly he moved his pistol to his lower back, bent down, and swung her into his arms.

Lacey let out a squawk like a startled chicken and grabbed his shoulders in a death grip. "Daryl! Put me down right now! You're going to hurt your back! Or drop me! I'm too heavy! You can't carry me up the stairs."

"Sure I can," was all he said. Daryl couldn't imagine how she could possibly think she was too heavy. Even before her pregnancy she had been slight. Now she felt fragile despite the added weight of her burden. Daryl could clearly feel her ribs and backbone jutting out. She had lost weight. Everyone woman he knew got fat and happy during their pregnancies. Lacey was anything but fat and happy.

Climbing the last flight of stairs Daryl ventured a question. "You been sick a lot? You don't weight nothing more than you did a year ago."

Lifting her head off Daryl's shoulder she looked away. What was she supposed to tell him? That most of the time she was too tired to eat? That she was too tired to drag groceries up to her apartment so sometimes she just went without?

"Yeah," she answered ducking her head. "Food hasn't been agreeing with me." He wasn't her husband anymore. She wasn't obligated to tell him the truth.

They had reached her apartment. A big box was sitting in front of her door. It was full of baby stuff.

"Oh," she gasped looking inside the box. "Put me down please."

Daryl could hear the excitement in her voice as he let her slide from his grasp. He almost groaned as her hip slid across his groin. He hadn't been with anyone since Lacey and carrying her up the steps had been exquisite torture. She had always been able to do that to him. Just being in a room with her for more than a few minutes was enough to make him want to drag her to the nearest sturdy surface.

"Jack must have dropped this off while I was at work," she explained, her excitement clear in her voice as she dug through the box. "It's got clothes, bibs, a booster seat- This is so cute! Look at thi-"

Her voice was cut off abruptly as Daryl grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face him. "Jack," he snarled. "Who the fuck is Jack?"

Looking into his enraged face Lacey reached up and touched his chest. "Daryl," she said quietly. "You're hurting me."

He let her ago so abruptly she had to grab the doorknob to steady herself. "Jack is Mary Ellen's husband. Remember my friend Mary Ellen? My friend from school? She had some used baby stuff for me," she explained calmly gesturing to the box.

Daryl nodded feeling his anger being replaced by embarrassment. "Not by business anyway," he said gruffly holding out her keys. "Goodnight."

Nodding she took the keys from him noticing how careful he was not to touch her hand. She watched his retreating back feeling all of her excitement drain away. They're dealings had been cordial, almost friendly tonight. She missed him so much.

"Daryl," she called out taking a few steps towards him. He stopped slowly but didn't turn to look at her.

"Um," she muttered, feeling foolish. "Could you ah- Could you help me get the box inside. I'm not supposed to lift anything that heavy and... I mean, I guess I could take all the things in a few at a time. Eh…. Nevermind. I'll just do that. Goodnight. Thanks for the ride."

Her face heated. Turning her back to him she unlocked the door. She didn't even hear him come up behind her. Years spent in the woods had taught him to move like a wraith. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him squat down and lift the big box against his chest. Her stomach flipped as she watched the muscles in his arms bulge. Even in the winter he wore sleeveless shirts. No matter how many times she had nagged him about ruining his clothes he would rip the sleeves off almost everyone one of the shirts she bought him. She had even teased him about wanting to show off his arms and all of his tattoos. He had just blushed, smacked her butt, and told her to keep her sassy mouth closed.

Opening the door she stepped inside and flipped on the light. Her apartment was flooded with dim yellow light. Daryl stepped past her and she whispered a soft thank you. She received a grunt in reply.

He stood a few feet inside her apartment. His observant mind taking in everything. The place was a fucking hovel. It was almost empty except for an ugly orange and red checkered sofa she had obviously bought used and a rickety coffee table that had seen better days. She didn't even have a kitchen table or a television. The ceiling and carpet had water stains from a previous leak and despite her best efforts the apartment continued to have an underlying smell of mildew. A pile of dirty laundry sat outside the bathroom door.

She was suddenly deeply ashamed and embarrassed. She knew Daryl had grown up in a place ten times worse than this but it did not make her feel any better.

"Just, uh, sit it right there and I'll unpack it later," she instructed over her shoulder.

Daryl sat the box down and turned to look at her, his face carefully blank.

"I'll be back in a second," she stammered still keeping her back to him. "I've got to get out of these clothes. Help yourself to something to drink. I think there is still some soda in the fridge."

She beat a hasty retreat into the bathroom shutting the door quickly behind her. Taking a deep breath she leaned against the door and closed her eyes. What had she been thinking to invite him into the rat hole she now called home? Thank God all of her clean clothes were in here. She didn't have any desire to leave the bathroom any sooner then she absolutely had to. Not owning a washer or dryer, she did most of her laundry in the sink. Lugging clothes to and from the laundramot was out of the question. It was another source of personal disappointment; one more reason to feel shitty about herself. She was having a baby and she was washing her clothes the same as a homeless person.

When Daryl had kicked her out of their place she had been determined to provide for herself, to show him she didn't need him or any man. "Sure showed him didn't I," she asked her reflection. Sighing she leaned over the bathroom sink. Her stomach rumbled from hunger and she swallowed quickly pressing a trembling hand to her throat trying to control her nausea. She lost the battle. Bending over the sink she vomited. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and her stomach was empty. She dry heaved until she thought her eyes would pop out.

Wiping the spit from her face she heard a knock at the door.

"Lacey, you alright?"

"I'm fine," she called out in a shaky voice. "I just need to eat something. Look, um, thank you for your help but I'm not really up for visitors tonight." She knew she was being rude, especially since he had gone out of her way to help her, but she just couldn't take anymore tonight. Being around him was twisting her up inside.

She waited for an answer. When none was forthcoming she sighed in relief. Thank god. She wouldn't have to face him in her grungy little apartment. She just wanted to collapse into bed and sleep for days.

She slipped out of her uniform and grabbed a t-shirt hanging from the shower curtain. It was an old t-shirt of Daryl's, one of her favorites. Soft and filled with happy memories. She had stolen it from him the first night she spent at his place. The black had faded to a dull grey and she could barely make out the name of the bar across her chest. When they had first separated she had slept in it every night, refusing to wash it. His smell had finally worn off but she kept it anyway. He had even demanded she return it to him. Filled with rage she had told him she'd burned it along with everything he'd ever given her. His reaction had been epic.

Wetting a rag she wiped her face and body. She just didn't have the energy for a shower. She would wash her hair in the larger bathroom sink after she'd choked down some food. Pulling on a clean pair of panties and the shirt she looked into the mirror one last time. She really needed to start taking better care of herself. Maybe if she went over her budget again she could find something to cut. She couldn't keep working this many hours. Feeling so worn out and tired wasn't good for her or the baby.

Daryl ran a hand through his hair and took a seat on her sofa. He had no business staying here. He really should leave just like she had suggested. But he couldn't. Having spent more than a few nights in a bottle he knew how much it hurt to puke when there was nothing left to puke. He'd wait, make sure she was ok, then he'd leave. He didn't want a call from Merle that she'd passed out and bled to death. He may not like her, sometimes he even hated her, but he didn't want her harmed.

He looked up as the bathroom door opened and she stepped into the dim light. She was wearing his old t-shirt from Murphy's Bar, the one she had told him she burned, and nothing else. Before her pregnancy the shirt had fallen mid thigh, now with her rounded belly it barely covered her panties. Looking at her slender legs he remembered the feel of them locked around his waist, her lithe runner's muscles clenching to pull his body deeper into hers. He felt his balls jerk. Ok, maybe he should have told her he was going to wait out here for her.

"Daryl," she gasped trying to pull she hem of the shirt lower. "I thought you left."

"That's my shirt."

"Yes," she gulped, her eyes huge.

He surged to his feet. Lacey backed up until she bumped the bathroom door. She was holding her hands outward from her body to ward him off. Her useless choice of defense brought a small smile to Daryl's face. Did she really think that would keep her safe from him? He closed the distance between them, his heart pounding and his groin heavy with arousal. Placing his hands on either side of her head he leaned into her slowly, keeping the smallest possible gap between their bodies. Dropping his head he whispered into her ear, "I want it back Lacey. Now."

She shivered. His body was putting off so much heat she thought it would scorch her. Struggling to gain her composure she nodded. "Alright. Just, ah, just give me a second."

Reaching backwards she searched for the door knob and couldn't find it. Quickly turning inside the circle of his arms she jiggled the door handle desperate to get away from him before his body heat burned her to ash. Fumbling with the knob she opened the door and tried to escape into what was quickly becoming her only sanctuary from Daryl. He reached around her slamming the bathroom door shut cutting off her only means of escape. He leaned into her, effectively trapping her between his body and the door, his large frame completely surrounding her. Lacey threw her head back into his chest trying to see his face. What game was he playing?

"No. I want it back now." Those words whispered into her ear made her shudder. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

Swallowing she turned around to face him. He was standing so close she was eye level to his sternum.

"Daryl. I-"

He cut her off. Swooping down he kissed her, roughly thrusting his tongue between her lips, devouring her mouth right along with her soul. His kiss was not an act of love but pure passion and aggression. Her lips felt bruised and the hand wrapped tightly in her hair pulled against her scalp bringing tears to her eyes. He directed every movement of her head, not allowing her to move in any way he did not approve. Daryl ravaged her mouth burning her soft skin with his unshaven face and she reveled in it.

Reaching around and under her shirt he cupped her bottom with his free hand pulling her into him and up onto her toes. Whimpering, she made fists into his shirt desperately trying to get closer. Growling low in his throat, he bent his knees and pulled her up, forcing his hard body between her legs. Lacey cried out as she wrapped herself around him, pulling him tightly to her. Moaning she felt his erection grinding against the most intimate part of her body. Pressed between his unyielding chest and the door she rode him, grinding herself against his jeans, wrapping her hands into his hair and meeting his tongue thrust for thrust.

With a primal noise Daryl tore his mouth from hers, yanking her head backwards exposing her throat. He raked her tender skin with his teeth biting and nipping. Lacey cried out grabbing his shoulders as a shudder of pure pleasure racked her body. Moving to her ear Daryl nipped and commanded, "The shirt baby girl. Now."

"Daryl," she cried out. "Please." She was begging him, clutching at his shoulders and strong back like a life line. She didn't want him to see her like this. Her belly large and swollen with another man's child, but she didn't want him to stop.

Licking up her throat he tightened his hold on her hair forcing her to arch her body deeply into his, pressing his swollen cock so hard against her groin that it hurt. "The shirt baby girl. Last chance." His voice was gravely and deep from arousal and his tone booked no argument.

Overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions coursing through her body, tears streaming down her face she began to beg. "Daryl please. I don't want you to see me like this."

He released her so suddenly she sagged against the door. Her knees where jelly and the world was swimming around her. At the center of that world was this stranger who looked like her husband. "Turn around," he barked, grabbing her shoulders to spin her around. One hand wrapped around her hip digging into her soft flesh so hard she knew she would bruise. The other hand pushed down between her shoulder blades forcing her upper body forward. He bent her over so quickly she barely managed to raise her arm in time to avoid slamming her face into the bathroom door.

"Don't move," he ordered kicking her feet wide apart.

Wrapping his arm around her rib cage, resting it on top of her pregnant belly, he held her so tight she didn't know how she was still able to breath. His arm had forced her breasts upward and out. Biting her lip she moaned, her head thrown back into his chest has he covered her body with his. She wanted to grab his hand and slide it up the few extra inches. Her nipples were painful little points, begging for his attention, jutting out against the soft material she refused to relinquish. Sliding his hand from her hip, he slowly ran his finger between the globes of her ass. Her thin cotton panties offered little protection against his touch. Every movement of his hand sent waves of need through her body. It had been so long since he had touched her intimately and her body was starving for his attention.

"What about your panties little girl," he asked softly tonguing her ear lobe. "Do I get to see that sweet little pussy?"

He didn't wait for answer. Shoving his hand into her panties he cupped her wet center. His breath came out in a hiss as she arched into his hand crying out her pleasure.

"Already soaking wet for me. Do you need to come baby girl," he taunted running his fingers through her slick labia lightly grazing over her swollen clit.

"Daryl," she sobbed grabbing the arm wrapped around her, digging her nails deep, letting him support her weight. "Please," she begged. He was killing her. At any moment she was going to split open and die. "I need- I need- Oh god!"

"What do you need baby girl?" He was playing with her, mocking her, and she didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. Not her pride, not her dignity. Nothing mattered but him and the way he made her feel.

"You," she gasped. "I need you. Touch me please!"

Tightening his hold around her ribs he jerked her closer to his body thrusting two fingers deep into her wet passage. His entry was rough, forcing her body to stretch and accept his invasion. If she had been any less aroused it would have hurt.

Lacey screamed, clawing his arm bloody as she came, her body uncontrollably bucking inside the circle of his arm. Moving his hand Daryl pinched and twisted her nipple intensifying her orgasm. Sobbing Lacey felt wetness dripping down her legs as he continued to play her body like an instrument.

As the last shudders racked her body she collapsed. She hung from his arm, her legs no longer able to support her. Daryl pulled his fingers from her body clenching body.

"That's a good girl," he crooned in her ear as he ran his fingers through her wet labia, his calloused fingers lightly grazing her clit. "You needed that didn't you?"

"Oh god," she cried out jerking. Tears were pouring down her face. "Please stop. Please stop," she begged. "No more. Please no more." Her body was tightly wound and every movement of his hand was a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Making one more swipe over her sensitive clit, drawing another tortured moan from her, he pulled his hand out of her panties. Cradling her limp body close to his he turned her around to face him. Her head hung back limply over his arm like a broken dolls. He softly kissed her trembling mouth. Drawing back he starred deeply into her eyes as he drew his fingers into his mouth, sucking her taste from them.

Leaning down, his mouth glistening from her kisses and come, he pressed his lips against her ear, sliding a hand up her swollen belly to cup her aching breast. "Your little body belongs to me," he whispered grazing her nipple with his thumb. "I can do anything I want and you'd let me wouldn't you?"

"Yes," she cried out, closing her eyes in shame. Oh god! She had tried to get over him, tried not to love him, but the things he did to her… Her humiliation was complete. She would always belong to him and he knew it to.

"No matter whose dick you take, no matters whose come you swallow, you will always be mine won't you baby girl," he growled twisting her nipple.

"Yes," she whimpered, wrapping her hands into his shirt. Her body trembled and she didn't know if it would ever stop. Swinging her into his arms he placed her limp body on the couch and stood looking down at her.

"It's too bad you turned out to be such a fucking whore," he said softly.

Lacey's eyes flew open in shock. His blue eyes burned down at her with rage and disgust. Smirking he went in for the kill. "Thanks for letting me play with that sweet little pussy one last time. I don't usually go for sloppy seconds. Glad I did though. I'd forgotten how hot a fuck you were."

Turning her face away with a whimper she heard him open the door to her apartment. "Goodbye Lacey." He shut the door quietly leaving her alone in her private hell.

Curling into a ball she wrapped her arms around her swollen belly and sobbed. He had finally done what he had set out to do months ago. She was finally well and truly broken. He had shattered her into a million pieces and she knew she would never be able to put herself back together again.


End file.
